


The Pet

by ObsidianButterfly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Dom/sub, F/M, Non Consensual, Oral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButterfly/pseuds/ObsidianButterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes is not a pleasant man at all and decides he would like Molly Hooper for his own personal pet. He begins his abuse while she is at work, giving her a taste of how he treats his pets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pet

Indifferent. Cold. Clinical. Similar words and images all sprang to her mind as his rough lips finally pulled away from hers. The taste of some sort of antiseptic mouthwash clung to the back of her throat as his face hovered back only a few inches. His smile was predatory as cool grey eyes searched her face; he was smirking at her, obviously enjoying her shock and discomfort.

Molly knew she was breathing fast, her chest heaving from the lack of oxygen as the man before her had invaded her mouth, tongue forced into hers until she couldn’t breathe. She was shocked at his actions; she had never expected it, never once saw it coming.

‘Why do you constantly pine after him, Molly?’ he rubbed his nose along hers as the grip on her chin remained firm. It was not an endearing or comforting gesture, more like claiming ownership or stroking a pet. 

She knew that when he eventually pulled his hand away, there would be small crescent shaped fingernail marks on her skin. She swallowed, fighting back panic as he continued.

‘Is if that floppy hair? Hmmm? The deep voice? His intelligence? Those…cheek bones?’

He leaned over her smaller framed placing his cold lips to her ear, ‘I know what you think of when you look at him, what you want, what you dream at night’

Molly’s mind reeled. Why was he doing this? Why was he now being so cruel? He had never seemed that way one the very few occasions she encountered him.

His voice continued, softly teasing, ‘Tell me, does your fantasy have him holding you? Hugging you? Caressing you like he loves you? He sweeps you off your feet into his strong arms, mutters terms of endearment into your ear as he lays you on your bed and makes slow passionate love to you before you both curl into a ball, happy and sedated, snuggling in the warmth of your bed?’

The man merely chuckled as small tears fell down her cheeks at his cold mocking. Truth was, she did occasionally have those kinds of dreams. She had a terrible crush on Sherlock and as much as she tried to deny it, everyone could see it.

‘Surely by now, you know him enough to realise your image of him is nothing more than a fantasy, a fallacy? Why does Sherlock Holmes inspire so much confidence and loyalty in you, Molly Hooper?’

Molly fought back angry and shameful tears. She was afraid now, afraid of this man before her but she tried not to show it. She didn’t want the satisfaction of him knowing she was terrified, but deep down she knew that he did. He knew everything. There would be no hiding from him. Her lip trembled as she continued to stare at his face; he pulled back from her ear slightly, emotionless eyes raking over her.

His voice turned hard, an undercurrent of malice as he sneered down his nose at her. ‘He doesn’t even see you, you know. Well, why would he? Poor, simply, mousey Molly. Why would he look at you when he could have any other man or woman fall at his feet?’ 

His breath whispered across her lips as he leaned forward to kiss her again. She squeaked as his crashed down onto her again, his breath was disgusting, his touch harsh and painful. She tried to pull away from his assault but he was much bigger than her. One hand still held a vice like grip on her jaw; the other was wrapped painfully around her upper arm. He used his body as leverage, pushing her back against the cold steel mortuary table. 

They were at St Bart’s. She had been at work helping with a recent case. They had all left now, having got their evidence, Sherlock, John, Lestrade, they were all gone. But he arrived, and now she was alone here with him. Molly wriggled in his grip, bucking against this invading body. Her cries and protests were lost into his mouth as his tongue savaged hers. In a last desperate attempt she bit down on his lip. Hard.

It only earned a small grunt of protest as he pulled back, his expression one of slight annoyance. He ran a thumb delicately over his broken and bleeding bottom lip before grinning evilly. ‘Oh very good, my dear. A little fight, hmmm? That won’t last long.’

The words panicked her. He didn’t seem very worried or concerned that he was assaulting her in the middle of the mortuary. Her eyes darted around the room, panicked and undecided. Should she grab a weapon, a scalpel maybe? She could run, aim for the door to the corridor then up the lift to the main hospital where there was more people. He wouldn’t do anything surrounded by witnesses, would he?

Her captor must have seen her glance at the door and he immediately knew what she was thinking. He raised an eyebrow; voice mocking, ‘You wouldn’t make it.’

Wide, frightened chocolate coloured eyes darted back to him. Fear propelled her, with a mighty effort Molly yanked her arm free and turned to run for the door. 

He was right, she didn’t make it. She expected him to follow her, to chase after her. What she hadn’t expected was the handle of his umbrella; swung with force and his full weight behind hit. It caught her across the side of the jaw and she went down onto the mortuary floor, hard.

Shocked, her vision blurred and her ears ringing, Molly gazed up at the tall, well dressed figure of Mycroft Holmes looming over her.

‘I did warn you.’ He commented, nonchalantly, as he examined the handle of his umbrella checking for breakages.

Molly lay, slightly stunned, on the floor as her hand rose to massage her aching jaw. She didn’t think anything was broken but she knew she was going to have a hell of a bruise tomorrow. Wincing, Molly considered screaming for help but before her thoughts formed completely coherently she felt long fingers grab a fist full of her hair, yanking her painfully off the floor. Yelping as she struggled to her knees, his hands in her hair directed her to her knees before him. Molly had to grab the base of her hair, trying to prevent the pain of his tugging, his fingers loosening the ponytail she had hastily placed this morning.

Then older Holmes fierce grip bent her head to the side in a painful angle, fingers twisting tighter so that her neck could not move. With his other hand he gently trailed fingers down her cheek in a horribly intimate way.

‘Let me go!’ Her voice sounded small and scared, even to her ears. Molly mentally cursed such weakness.

His voice was a mere whisper but held an undercurrent of danger. ‘When I am finished.’

‘Please, let me go,’ she whimpered as she closed her eyes not wanting to look up into his hard gaze anymore, afraid of what she could see.

His thumb traced her lips idly before pulling away. Molly could hear the rustle of clothing. She opened her eyes slightly, just a small crack to peer up at him. Kneeling waist height, she could see him unloosening his expensively tailored suit jacked before moving down to do the same with the fly of his trousers.

Her breath hitched. He didn’t think he could make her-no she wouldn’t, he wasn’t going to do that surely? She wouldn’t let him. Molly took a deep breath and braced her hands against his legs trying to push away, intending to yell out as loudly as she could. Mycroft must have anticipate her move as a casual backhand sent her reeling sideways, knocking the breath from her and her neck snapping painfully. His grip on her hair brought her back up into line with his body as he finished removing himself from his clothing.

He was hard and ready as he drew himself out his trousers placing himself directly in front of her, the tip of his cock just lightly brushing her lips. Molly squeezed her eyes closed and pursed her lips. Her mind was screaming at her, at him. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t. He was disgusting.

His hips flexed pushing his hardened cock against her tightly closed mouth. The smooth silky head trailing across her lips slightly smearing pre come across her skin. She tried shaking her head in protest as much as she could manage, murmuring through tight lips, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. He didn’t seem to take notice. Mycroft’s fingers twisted sharply and painfully against her scalp, ripping a chunk of hair from her head. It caused her to cry out in pain and he used this to press his advantage, sliding himself into her slightly open warm, wet mouth.

With one hand firmly on the back of her head, Mycroft used her hair as leverage to draw her along the length of his hard cock, flexing his hips and pushing more of himself into her. Molly gagged on the large intrusion, struggling to pull away but he only ever drew himself slightly out of her, never fully leaving her mouth before plunging back in.

She could only try to breath and keep as wide as possible as he fucked her mouth, not caring if she was chocking or having trouble breathing, his hand dragging her head down his cock, pulling at her, forcing her to move as he wanted.

The small noises of protest only seemed to encourage him as his hips bucked wildly, losing any sense of rhythm. She braced both her hand on his hips, trying to push him away or at least cushion some of his rougher movements, but towering above her, the power was all his.

Molly’s eyes watered, saliva trailed down her chin that she could not swallow, she fought to breath, she fought not to throw up at the feeling of him running along her tongue, brushing the insides of her cheeks or scrapping the roof of her mouth. 

She could bite him, she thought. It would stop, and it may have a better reaction than when she tried it on his lip, more painful given the delicate section of his anatomy now in her. A small, scared voice in the back of her head stopped her. What would he do to her if she tried that? He would likely lose his temper; she may receive more than a slap to the face. She would almost welcome back his icy, impersonal kisses than this.

She had no choice, she endured it. After what felt like an age Holmes pulled himself out her mouth completely. Molly sagged with relief, spitting out a mixture of saliva and pre-cum onto the floor. With a grunt above her he came, pulling her hair back painfully, angling her so that he could spill his seed across her face and neck as the final insult to her abuse.

Once finished he pushed her away from him roughly. Molly’s knees were aching from the solid floor and she fell back, hard, only catching herself on her hands in time to stop her face connecting with the floor. 

The cold surface under her helped with the pain in her jaw, she lay there letting it sooth her cheek and in a mixture of shock and denial about what had just happened. She watched him with angry and hurt eyes as he carefully cleaned himself off before tucking himself back into his trousers. Once he was neat and presentable he picked up his umbrella and turned back to her.

Mycroft’s look was detached. ‘Very well done Miss Hopper, you are much better than I thought you would be.’

She murmured something against the floor. He threw his head back chuckling; the sound startled her, instinctively she curly tighter into a ball on the floor.

‘Tell. Who would you tell? And who would believe you, you over me?’

He examined perfectly manicured fingernails, the silence stretching. ‘I will send a car for you tomorrow. Wear something pretty, a little make-up won’t do you any harm either.’

‘A-A car?’

‘Oh yes. You will be brought to me when I desire your presence. Tomorrow at 8pm I think.’

Molly opened her mouth before closing it again. Her mind reeled; she didn’t have the words or know exactly what was going on. He was expecting her to do this…again?

His voice held malice as he stood over her, umbrella tip trailing her cheek threateningly. ‘Oh yes, unlike my dear brother, I do like to have female company around. Well, I say company but what I really mean is… a-a pet. Until next time Miss Hopper.’

With that he callously stepped over her prone body, umbrella swinging merrily. Molly heard his shoes clicking loudly on the stone floor as he retreated to the doorway before stepping through. Without a backwards glance he left her shaking and sobbing silently on the floor, wondering what on earth she was going to do when tomorrow came.

 

~End


End file.
